There's Only Us
by Artemis Rampant
Summary: The plot of Rent with the characters of Big Time Rush.  A little bit silly, a little bit serious, and a whole lot of crazy.  Includes Kendall/Logan, James/Carlos, and Jo/Camille, each portraying a canon RENT couple.


**A/N: To all my Harry-Potter-fandom subscribers, I should apologize. I promised a continuing story, and didn't deliver. Unfortunately, soon after I published that first chapter, the BTR fandom kind of dropped on me like a big all-consuming bomb. So. I do plan to return to that story next time I'm in a Marauder-y mood, but right now I literally cannot focus on it enough to write it right now. **

**Anyways, I do have this! This is my Big Time Rush/Rent crossover. And it's taken over my brain in a big way. I plan to make my way through the entire play with the BTR characters, and unless something **_**even more sparkly and distracting than BTR **_**comes into my life, I'm going to follow through with that. **

**Apologies if the boys' characterization is slightly off. I have to work with a much more angsty James and a much more slutty Carlos. You'll…you'll see. Hopefully I'm getting it right. Enjoy! **

"Hey." Logan brushes snow off his shoulders as he steps into the apartment. "Have you eaten anything today?"

James makes a noncommittal noise and strums a few more chords, pointedly not looking up.

Rolling his eyes, Logan wraps his fingers around the neck of the guitar. "James. I know all we have is stale cereal, but I'm not letting you starve yourself. At least eat that. Plus," he glances at his watch, "your AZT."

With a slow blink, James raises his head and meets Logan's wide eyes. "Stop worrying, Logie, I can handle myself."

"I'll believe it when I see you eat without me telling you to." He tugs at the guitar but fails to pull it away.

James stares for another moment, then sighs and hops off the table. "What are you, my mom?" He combs at his hair with his fingers habitually as he walks into the kitchen-ish-area.

Once Logan is confident that he's actually taking the meds, he pulls out a few flyers and turns to drop them into the garbage can in the middle of the room. "So have you heard about Camille's new one-woman act?" He chases the paper with a match, and holds his hands over the meager blaze.

"Dude." James takes the opportunity to abandon his task and stand by the heat. "Please tell me this is a rumor you heard."

"Well…"

"Please don't tell me she's roped you into helping."

"I mean, she called!" Logan cringed. "And you know Camille. She's…persuasive."

"Pushy," he corrects. "I don't care if she's putting on the greatest show this city's ever seen, she doesn't have any right to call you."

Logan shakes his head and can't think of a good retort. "Anyways, I just have to go over tomorrow and help with the sound system. I would have done it today, but I was…busy." He looks down and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

James eyes him, but no amount of suspicious behavior can get him to change this subject. "It sounds like bad news to me. I thought you were broken up for good this time."

"We are!" He nods almost too hard, as if he doesn't quite believe it himself. "We…we are."

The fire burns out all too quickly, and James sighs and returns to staring at the unappetizing bag of Life. "If you get to worry about me, I get to worry about you."

Logan shakes his head, because he has so many more reasons to be worried than James does, but he can't think of a good way to say that out loud. He looks at his watch. "Oh jeez, I gotta go. Don't wait up if I'm out late, okay?"

"Wait, where could you possibly need to be going right now?"

"Just meeting up with a friend," he says quickly. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Did you seriously just stop by for five minutes to check on me?" But Logan is already out the door.

James sighs and takes a handful of the cereal.

He's just giving up on eating and going back to his guitar when the phone rings. He looks at it and thinks about answering it, but lets it go to message. His recorded voice choruses with Logan's (_Speeeeeak_), and then a high, obnoxious voice fills the apartment.

"Logan and James? It's Jennifer. Jennifer, Jennifer and I just wanted to remind you boys that your rent is due, okay? And don't give us those pretty little pouts, it's not gonna work. Just pay up, boys, and we won't have any issues. Got it? Oh, and Merry Christmas." The line went dead with a click.

James sits and stares at the phone for a long moment, hands still on the strings of his guitar. He hears angry shouts outside the window, and something burning falls past his field of vision.

Looking up, he meets his own eyes in the small mirror he hung on the wall years ago. "We're _not_ gonna pay rent," he tells himself, and in that moment, he believes it.

He shakes his head and goes back to picking at chords.

"Lola, honey, you're late," one of the girls admonishes as Logan pushes through the back entrance of The Hanging Gardens.

"I know, I know, sorry!" He rushes to his cramped space at the vanity and starts in on his make-up. "Hey Trixie, can I borrow that lipstick you wore the other night? The carmine?"

She winks at him and slips him the tube. "Sure thing, cutie."

He chuckles and leans in close to the mirror as he smooths foundation over his cheekbones. "So, are we looking at a big payoff tonight?"

"Ticket sales are through the roof," she says. Logan is bent over the counter a little, and she stares appreciatively for a second before going to touch up her eyeliner. "They're lining up around the block to take a peek at the best ass below 14th street."

"Now Trixie, don't be vain." He laughs to cover up his blush.

She grins and shakes her head. "Oh, Lola. You ready for our big Christmas Extravaganza?"

He shrugs and pulls a Santa-inspired dress out of a small pile of costumes. "Ready as ever."

Logan's always the last to leave the dressing room after a show, since none of the other girls feel the need to remove every last trace of make-up before going home. Trixie pats his shoulder as she walks by him and out the door. "You take care of yourself, sweetheart, and have a lovely Christmas."

He smiles. "You too, Trix. See you next week."

When everybody's gone and he feels like he's sufficiently returned to his ordinary male self, he shrugs on his coat, winds a long scarf around his neck, and thumbs through the stack of bills, his share of the evening's rewards. Trixie hadn't been kidding about the size of the crowd (though he doubts that his ass was the sole reason), and even though it's mostly crumpled ones and fives, it comes out to over a hundred dollars. He whistles and tucks it deep into his coat pocket. One last check in the mirror for leftover lipstick stains, and he's out the door.

Exiting into the back alley, he doesn't expect to hear pained moans echoing around the small space. Not too far away, a hunched figure in a plaid shirt leans hard against the wall of the other building. "Hey, you okay?" he calls, venturing closer cautiously.

The figure turns with some effort, and it's immediately obvious that he's hurt. "Oh, hell," Logan whispers under his breath, and rushes over. "Hey, come on, let's just…sit down for a second," he says, and grabs the man's arm without a second thought to help him slide down the wall. "They get any money?"

He reaches up to pull his beanie down over his ears. "Didn't have any. Took my coat, though." He looks up at Logan, now kneeling over him on the sidewalk with his trademark 'worried' face, and tries to smile even though his eye is bruised and there's a cut on his cheek. It turns into a wince. "What's your name?"

"Ah, Logan," he says, hands fluttering like he wants to help but doesn't quite know where to start. "A-are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Nah, they just kicked me pretty hard in the stomach. I'll be fine in a few minutes." He holds out his hand. "I'm Kendall."

Logan can't help the smile that spreads over his face as he shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you Kendall. Well, maybe not under these circumstances, but…"

"Small price to pay for meeting an angel like you." He's smirking now, the eyebrow above his good eye raised, and Logan can feel the blush creeping over his cheeks. "You don't have to worry about me," he continues, getting himself to his feet and gently refusing Logan's help. "You probably have somebody you want to spend Christmas Eve with, right? I'll be fine."

Logan rolls his eyes. "I have a screwed up roommate to take care of, if that's what you mean. He's in one of his moods, so it'll probably be pretty quiet around the apartment." He quirks his head. "You…you should come. Unless, I mean, you probably have somewhere else you were planning on being…"

Kendall looks at him. "Your roommate wouldn't happen to be one James Diamond, would he?"

He blinks. "Uh, yeah. You know him?"

"We grew up together! I was just on my way over to your place to surprise him for Christmas. He's mentioned you before, but he's been kind of avoiding contact for a while." He shrugs. "I would have come sooner if he'd told me you were so cute."

Logan curls a hand around the back of his neck. "Oh. Oh! _You're_ Kendall! Yeah, he's…he's mentioned you a few times."

Kendall tries to grin again, and winds up with his hand over his eye. "Oh good, I was hoping I wouldn't have to pummel him for forgetting about me."

"Okay, come on." Logan slips an arm around Kendall's waist and leads him out of the alley. "Let's get you something for that eye. And a coat."

Kendall lets his arm fall around Logan's shoulders, even though normally he would refuse the help. "Lead the way."

"One song to leave behind…" James frowns and shakes his head, testing notes on his guitar. "Leave behind…"

A knock on the door. He almost doesn't notice, absorbed in his musical dilemma, but it comes again, stronger and more insistent, and he finally puts the guitar aside.

The door opens on a young Hispanic man - a boy, really. He's smiling up with a hesitant grin that rivals Logan's in utter sweetness, in direct contrast to his low-cut shirt and distractingly tight pants. Not that he doesn't look good in it (James has to remind himself not to stare), but he looks a little bit like he had to sneak past his parents to go out in an outfit like that. "Got a light?"

"Do I know…" James shakes his head. "You're shivering."

"It's nothing." He shrugs and pushes lightly past James into the apartment. "They turned off my heat. Light my candle?" He holds it out in front of him and watches as James fumbles with a book of matches. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," he says quickly, and wants to slap himself for acting so nervous. James Diamond doesn't act nervous. "Your hair - uh, you look familiar." Finally, finally he brings the match to the candle, and it lights. The boy smiles in thanks and turns to leave, but stumbles before he can make it out the door. "Can you make it?"

He waves his hand. "Just haven't eaten much today, you know? Anyway." He leans against the door jamb. "What?"

"Nothing. Your smile. It reminded me of…"

He smiles and shakes his head. "I always remind people of…" He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. "Who is he?"

James fixes his own hair unconsciously. "Uh, well, you remind me a little of my roommate, Logan…but yeah, there was, um, a she, too. April. She - she died." He swallows and wonders why he's stammering his personal history to a random attractive stranger.

The boy nods and turns slightly, blowing out the candle as if he thinks he's being subtle. "Oh! It's out again." He holds it out, moving closer to James. "Sorry about your friend. Do you mind?"

"No, it's cool." This time James focuses on the matches, instead of the way the moonlight is hitting this boy's skin, and it goes faster. "Well…"

"Yeah. Ow!" He pulls his hand away from the candle.

"Oh, the wax. It's -"

"Dripping, yeah." The boy brings his burnt fingers to his mouth.

James stares. James knows that he is staring. "Do you want…some paper or something? To catch the…" He glances around the apartment. "Actually, I think we burned all the paper."

"Oh, well. Goodnight." Finally, he gives one more ridiculously adorable smile, walks out the door, and closes it behind him.

James closes his eyes for a second and lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Come on, Diamond, pull it together." He's just turning back to his guitar when there's another knock.

He almost runs toward the door, which is a little stupid. "It blew out again?"

"No," he says, rushing back into the room. "I think that I dropped my stash."

James leans against the door and makes a weak attempt at suavity. "I know that I've seen you around. You know, when I used to go out. Uh, your candle -"

"I had it when I walked through the door." His eyes sweep around. "It was pure - is it on the floor?"

He drops to his knees and starts actually crawling around searching, which. Wow. Those pants are…really tight.

He glances over his shoulder and smirks, and if the smile was the cutest thing James has ever seen, then this is definitely the sexiest. "They say I have the best ass below 14th street. Is it true?"

"W-what?"

"You're staring again."

James pinches the bridge of his nose. "Ugh. I mean…I mean, you do, have a nice, um…you look familiar."

"Like your roommate? Your dead girlfriend?"

James blushes and regrets ever mentioning April. "Only when you smile, but I mean, I'm sure I've seen you somewhere else."

"You ever been to the Cat Scratch Club? I'm a dancer there."

"Yes!" Figures. He can't help laughing a little bit. "Didn't they used to tie you up?"

He looks back and rolls his eyes. "Shut up. It's a living. Help me look."

"Heh, I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs." He crosses his wrists over his head and dances over to him, prompting the boy to smirk and hit his leg lightly.

Their eyes meet, and for a moment James forgets where he is or what he's doing. Then he's reminded when the boy holds up the dead candle, again. He lights it.

He turns back to the floor. "You gonna help me look?"

James drops to his knees and starts crawling under the table. Almost immediately, his hand brushes against a small pouch. He almost says something, but thinks better of it and covers it with his palm. "Why don't you forget that stuff? You look sixteen."

"Nineteen," he says quickly. "And I'm old for my age. You know, born to be bad and all that."

James gets back up on his knees and slips his hand into his back pocket. "Yeah, that used to be me. Used to shiver like that, too."

The boy takes his hands off the floor and puts them on his hips. "I told you, no heat."

"I used to sweat."

"I've got a cold!"

"Uh-huh." James stands. "I used to be a junkie."

The boy's eyebrows lift as he stands. "Now and then I like to feel good," he says, and it's almost like a challenge.

James tilts his head and blows out the candle. He shrugs. "That was my last match."

"Our eyes'll adjust," he says, stepping closer. "Thank god for the moon."

"Maybe it's not the moon at all. I hear Spike Lee's shooting down the street."

"Bah humbug," he says, and then he's slipping one hand into James's.

James's heart rate picks up. _Stop that_. "Cold hands."

"Yours, too." He licks his lips, and James can't tell whether it's unconscious or calculated. "Big. You wanna dance?"

"I'm James." He pulls the boy closer, feels his hands slip around his waist.

He smiles up at him, and it's wide and genuine and so, so endearing. "They call me Carlos."

**A/N: So, Best Ass: Logan or Carlos? Discuss. ;) Review, please! **


End file.
